Alone
by born30
Summary: Set after S3:E8 - "Ordinary People"; Elena has trouble breaking her latest habit. One-shot.


**Rating: **K+  
**Disclaimer: **_TVD_ is not mine. The show and the characters belong to Julie Plec and The CW. This was written strictly for entertainment, not for profit.  
**Word Count: **1,028  
**Summary: **Set after S3:E8 - "Ordinary People"; Elena has trouble breaking her latest habit.

**Alone**

"I couldn't stop looking over my shoulder at school today." Elena Gilbert climbed into bed, pulling the covers halfway over her tired body. "I kept expecting something bad to happen."

"Because it usually does," Damon Salvatore replied, staring at the ceiling above their heads. "Face it, _you_ are a magnet for trouble."

"Thanks a lot." She reached for the lamp on the nightstand, switching the light off and plunging them into a darkness tempered only by the sliver of moonlight sifting in between the eyelet lace window coverings.

It was never really mentioned, and certainly not questioned, but as her brown eyes adjusted to the dim light and soaked in his shadowy form in her bed, Elena asked, "Are you staying?"

Shuffling noises filled the quiet as Damon flipped in her direction. "Do you want me to stay?" She could practically hear the eyebrow-waggle in his voice.

There had been a time when his penchant for showing up unannounced in her bedroom was an invasion of privacy, a privilege he hadn't earned. Then, they got Michael on their side, and that night Damon's presence beside her in bed had eased her insomnia, releasing her into the most satisfying slumber she'd experienced in weeks. Soon it became an unspoken pattern: they talked about killing Klaus, and how to get Stefan back, and she said things she shouldn't have, and he teased her about them until she fell asleep, and in the morning, he was gone.

She couldn't pinpoint when she'd started depending on him being there. Maybe it had something to do with Jeremy now living in Denver; Alaric came and went from his apartment, rarely staying over in the spare room anymore; Jenna and her mom and dad were never coming back. Most nights she was by her lonesome in the Gilbert house. Unless her ex-boyfriend's brother appeared, literally out of thin air, to relieve her of the responsibility of being the only one left.

But now Elena was suddenly unsure how to reply. She wanted not to be alone, but did that mean she wanted him to stay? She nuzzled into the pliant down comforter and allowed her silence to serve as the safest response.

With mock incredulous, Damon asked, "Have you lost your mind?"

"Maybe," she agreed and laughed. It _was_ funny, this 'friendship' between them, how it had…matured in Stefan's absence.

Damon placed one of his strong hands to her forehead; the smooth band of his daylight ring was cool against her skin. "No fever either."

She swatted his hand away. "Damon…" A grumble dovetailed into a sigh. "Fine, leave. I don't care."

His unconvinced scoff left no breath for doubt. "You can skip the tough act with me."

"It's not an act. I'm fine." And she almost believed it, too.

Damon propped himself up on his elbow, gathering her gaze into the vastness of his blue eyes. Eyes that had seen so many decades of human life. So much tragedy and renewal. She could hardly talk to a 100-something-year-old vampire about loneliness.

"You don't have to be, you know," he finally said.

Elena swallowed hard. "But I am…fine."

The unnatural blue glow disappeared as he blinked once. Twice.

"Alone," Damon corrected.

His promise to her—_I will never leave you again_—was a near enough memory that it echoed, unbidden, within the air they shared. Damon was a man of action. She wouldn't put it past him to take his own words literally. Maybe she should have just asked Matt to come over.

"Lucky for you, my calendar is wide open till morning." The playful lilt in his voice calmed her for some reason. His body shook the whole bed as he tossed onto his back, nestling one arm under his head. "Do you want me to go ahead and pencil you in for the rest of the week, too?"

"I wouldn't want to mess up your busy schedule of feasting on co-eds." The comment was nastier than she's planned—she got cranky when she was tired—and she was about to issue an apology when—

"Once you've had one sorority girl…." Damon was closer now, whispers of his heated breath fluttering over her face. "But there's only one you, Elena."

They remained that way, turned slightly towards each other, for a long moment. She recognized the familiar weight of his gaze on her, but her eyes focused solely on the knot at the base of his throat, the image imprinted behind her lids even after fatigue pressed them closed. By the time deft fingertips grazed the length of her cheek, it was impossible for her to distinguish reality from dreams.

* * *

The morning sun at his back, Alaric balanced the drink holder on his open palm, using his free hand to unlock the front door. The coffee was his peace offering to Elena for skirting his guardian duties as of late. She made it easy for him, her brave face perfected and convincing. But he knew he was leaving her alone too much, and that had to change.

The high school teacher was two steps into the foyer when Damon appeared at the top of the stairs. Pulling on his black leather jacket, the swarthy vampire yawned and thumped down the wooden steps.

"Hey Rick, morning," Damon said, undaunted in the face of his friend and Elena's closest semblance of parental authority. Rubbing a hand over his rumpled shirt, he waltzed by Alaric, helping himself to a coffee, and continued on through the open door, calling over his shoulder, "You should really shave, dude."

Dumbstruck, his features contorting in confusion, Alaric stared after Damon, who was sauntering down the middle of the street, and then back inside the house and up the staircase.

Closing the door behind him, Alaric sighed, drawing a heavy hand from his forehead down past his chin. Never had he felt more like the parent he was pretending, ineptly, to be.

"Definitely," he decided. "Definitely not around enough."

With a foot on the first stair, Alaric lifted his voice, filled with more puzzlement than anger, up to the second level of the house. "Elena! I think we need to talk..."

**The end**


End file.
